Ikkis Review: A Rare Indian War Biopic That Chooses Restraint And Still Hits Hard

A Juggling Of Timelines That Slowly Reveals Its Purpose

Ikkis opens by immediately establishing that it will not hold your hand. The film juggles timelines from the very beginning, primarily moving between 1971 and 2001. This structure is not employed as a stylistic gimmick but as a narrative necessity, allowing the film to withhold information, build emotional weight, and let revelations arrive organically.

In the 1971 timeline, we are introduced to Arun Khetarpal, played by Agastya Nanda, on his 21st birthday. He is celebrating with his batchmates when a call arrives informing them that they are being mobilised for battle. Arun’s reaction is striking in its innocence and eagerness. He asks his superior, "Sir, ladaai honevaali hai?, almost gleefully. In that single moment, the film captures his mindset, his youth, and his unfiltered sense of duty.

Running parallel is the 2001 timeline set in Lahore. Brigadier Nissar, played by Jaideep Ahlawat, lives there with his wife and daughter and is preparing to host Retired Brigadier Madan Lal Khetarpal, Arun’s father, played by Dharmendra. The meeting takes place in a sensitive political climate, with Kargil still fresh in memory. Despite the warmth and nostalgia, there is an undercurrent of tension. Nissar carries a secret he fears will devastate Madan Lal, and that unspoken weight lingers through every interaction.

Arun Khetarpal And A Life Defined By Duty

Arun Khetarpal is written not as a cinematic symbol but as a deeply human figure whose life is governed by an unwavering belief in duty. He follows rules not because they protect him but because they define him. There is an early moment where Arun is willing to report his own teammates for breaking protocol, and while it initially paints him as rigid and uncompromising, it later becomes central to understanding who he is.

Agastya Nanda approaches the role with a sincerity that works strongly in the film’s favour. His rawness as an actor aligns with Arun’s youth and emotional directness. There is no performative bravado or manufactured heroism. His courage feels instinctive, sometimes even dangerously naive. As the film progresses and the battlefield closes in around him, Nanda allows fear, clarity, and resolve to coexist within the same frame. His performance never reaches for applause, which makes his bravery feel all the more real.

A War Film That Refuses To Turn Hatred Into Entertainment

One of the most remarkable achievements of Ikkis is its refusal to demonise. This is not a film interested in simplifying geopolitics or indulging in nationalist spectacle. Pakistani soldiers are not portrayed as faceless villains. Instead, they are shown as men bound by duty, just like their Indian counterparts.

There is a quietly devastating moment when Brigadier Nissar hesitates before referring to Indian soldiers as enemies while narrating a story to Madan Lal. That pause carries immense emotional weight. Without spelling it out, the film communicates the tragedy of war and the moral complexity of those who fight it. Ikkis becomes one of the most anti war Indian films in spirit while still celebrating courage and sacrifice with dignity.

Sriram Raghavan Breaking War Film Grammar

Sriram Raghavan, best known for his slow burn thrillers, brings the same control and patience to Ikkis. He deliberately breaks the grammar of conventional Indian war cinema. There are no rousing speeches explaining why one nation is superior to another. There are no repeated slogans designed to provoke applause. Instead, tension is built through geography, sound design, and silence.

Working closely with cinematographer Anil Mehta and a meticulous production design team, Raghavan crafts battle sequences that feel immersive rather than decorative. Grenade blasts, tank movements, missile launches, and gunfire are staged with authenticity and restraint. The action never feels staged for spectacle. It feels exhausting, chaotic, and frightening. You are not watching heroics from a safe distance. You feel like a bystander caught in the fog of war, uncertain of what the next moment will bring.

Performances That Elevate The Film Immensely

The performances in Ikkis are one of its strongest pillars. Dharmendra, in what is his final on screen appearance, delivers a profoundly moving performance. At 89, he conveys grief, pride, and quiet devastation through minimal dialogue. His eyes carry decades of memory. The poem he recites, written by him, feels intimate and deeply personal. Watching him inhabit this role feels like witnessing a legend take a graceful bow, one last time.

Jaideep Ahlawat is extraordinary as Brigadier Nissar, which is to no one's surprise. He brings nuance and gravity to a character defined by regret, dignity, and moral conflict. Whether portraying a determined officer in his younger days or a man burdened by memory decades later, Ahlawat remains effortlessly compelling. While this is Arun Khetarpal’s story, it is also Nissar’s, and it is due to Ahlawat that this parallel narrative hits with such emotional force.

Simar Bhatia, as Kiran, has limited screen time but leaves a lasting impression. Her presence serves as an emotional anchor in Arun’s life, and she brings warmth and clarity to the role. Supporting appearances from Maumik, Asrani, and Zakir Hussain add texture and authenticity without ever pulling focus from the film’s emotional core.

Where Ikkis Slightly Loses Momentum

Despite its many strengths, Ikkis is not without flaws. At 2 hours 27 minutes, the film takes time to find its rhythm. The first hour in particular feels stretched, with certain character beats lingering longer than necessary. While Arun’s traits are well established, some moments feel repetitive rather than revelatory.

The non linear storytelling in the first act occasionally feels scattered. Instead of flowing seamlessly, some transitions feel like narrative notes placed next to each other. The music also proves to be an underwhelming element. While not ineffective, its placement feels inconsistent. At one point, multiple tracks appear in quick succession, disrupting the emotional continuity. In a film that otherwise exercises such control, the musical choices feel surprisingly rushed.